


Ardent Rainbow

by Grimalkenkid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Good Parent Jeralt Reus Eisner, Heartbreak, Jeralt adopts Miklan AU, M/M, Multi, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, My Unit | Byleth is Sothis, Student My Unit | Byleth, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkenkid/pseuds/Grimalkenkid
Summary: Perfect, happy endings don't exist... or do they?Byleth Eisner was simply a common mercenary before a chance encounter. Next thing she knows, she was a student at the Garreg Mach Officers' Academy, embroiled in all the drama, adventure, and mystery that entails.But something in the back of her mind is telling her that she has a greater role to play... that she's so much more than a sellsword... that her soul is far older than it appears to be...Also, what's the deal with that woman in her dreams who keeps showing up and giving cryptic advice?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 30
Kudos: 105





	1. The Throne

**Author's Note:**

> I never learn, so here's my 5th path, Everyone Lives AU, longfic. No idea how big this project will become or how often I'll update, but I wanted to get the first chapter out, at the very least, to see what interest there is.
> 
> I put the ships in the tags because I don't want people to get invested in the story, only to realize it's a notp or something similar later. However, this doesn't mean the ships are set in stone (for the most part). I'm always open to suggestions, though Dimileth is happening one way or another. (I'm partial to poly-ships, so expect those to show up a lot.)

The dream was always the same. A woman with long, green hair and pointed ears, dressed in unusual yet regal garb, lounging upon a stone throne and resting her head in her hand. She never spoke, simply regarded Byleth with piercing, emerald eyes. The young mercenary felt like she should be afraid, and yet there was something comforting about the strange woman’s presence. Despite the darkness surrounding them, Byleth felt safe.

This night, however, the woman on the throne sat up, looking down on the young mercenary with… some kind of emotion in her eyes. Byleth took a step back, wondering why this had changed now, when for years the dream had stayed consistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the strange woman. “Did something happen?”

The woman looked off to the side and smiled. Her lips parted, and while no sound came out, the words echoed across the empty expanse of darkness, unheard yet known all the same.

_ “It is time.” _

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, kid, wake up.”

Byleth groaned and yanked the blankets over her head. She always rose with the sun, but the only light she saw was a candle flickering on the table. “Not yet,” she grumbled, turning over in an attempt to cocoon herself. “I’mma growin’ girl. Gotta get muh beauty sleep.”

“Then get to bed earlier,” Jeralt huffed right before he tore the covers off.

The young mercenary pouted and rolled out of bed. Stubbornness ran in the family, but she couldn’t muster the energy to dig in her heels while sleep still clung to her eyes. “Fine,” she said, stretching and picking her things up off the floor. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Jeralt sighed and nodded. “Don’t take too long, By,” he said as he went to the door. “Everyone else is already up. Remember, next mission is in the Kingdom, so we’ve got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.”

“I know, I know. Now get out so I can change.”

Her father chuckled as he closed the door behind him, leaving Byleth to pull on her traveling clothes and armor. While they generally didn’t run into highwaymen on the road, it never hurt to be prepared. Stuffing her few belongings into a backpack, the young mercenary left the rented room and ambled downstairs.

“Well, well, well, Her Demonic Ashenness finally graces us with her presence,” Mira scoffed, the hint of a smile in her eyes betraying her grandmotherly affection. The aging archer had a tongue as sharp as her aim, but everyone knew that her jokes were never meant to sting. “Guess that means Father Dearest’s ready to go, huh?”

Jeralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Give the kids some time to finish breakfast, Mira,” he groaned. “We can’t all inhale eggs like you can.”

“True,” she said. “It is an acquired skill.”

Byleth ignored the conversations going on between the rest of the company and plopped down next to Miklan. The armored redhead silently pushed the untouched portion of his breakfast towards her, and she eagerly began shoveling the food into her mouth. It wasn’t a huge amount, but the young mercenary tended to save her appetite for dinner anyway.

“Heard we’re going to northern Faerghus this time,” Miklan sighed. A slightly uneasy look passed over his face, one Byleth would’ve missed if she hadn’t already known what to look for. He quickly covered it up with a grin. “How much you wanna bet those new, Empire recruits won’t make it half a day before they complain about the cold?”

“More than you currently have,” Byleth said, poker-faced as usual. “But they’re proud. I’d give them two days at least.”

“Eh, you’re probably right.”

It wasn’t long before Jeralt called for his mercs to move out. With the crowd he attracted, it was best to keep their idleness to a minimum. Not that anyone had any issue stuffing the last few rolls and bits of bacon into their mouths to avoid being the last to leave. As the rest of the company went to get the wagons ready, Byleth made a beeline for her father, Miklan in tow.

“So,” the young mercenary said, a bit more casually than usual, “any details about this job you’d like to share?”

“Standard guard duty.” Jeralt took a letter out of his coat and skimmed the contents once more. He got quite a few job requests via messenger, though this particular letter had been sealed by a Kingdom Crest. Whoever wrote it was slightly more important than the standard employer. “Some noble wants a few extra bodies for some festival. Pretty high pay to stand around and look intimidating for a day or two.”

Miklan caught sight of the wax seal before Jeralt hid in back in his clothing. “‘Some noble’?” the redhead grumbled. “I’d hardly call Fraldarius ‘some noble’.”

“So long as he pays, the name doesn’t matter.” Byleth playfully elbowed Miklan. “First rule of mercenary work, right?”

The redhead gave a wry smile. “Sure, sure. Just don’t expect me to do any talking.”

“Do we ever?”

“Quiet, you two.” Jeralt’s order came suddenly, and the two younger mercs immediately shut up and followed his gaze.

Jeralt focused on the main road leading out of the village. It wasn’t wide or particularly well-marked, but it served its purpose. The inn’s stables were located near the simple walls that surrounded it, giving them a good view beyond the gates and into the forest beyond. Whatever had caught the old mercenary’s attention was coming from the trees.

After a few moments of quiet, Byleth heard it too. Footsteps coming through the brush, and lots of them. As she was trying to estimate the likely number of bodies creating such racket, a few figures stumbled out of the woods and ran through the open gates, angling towards the mercs. In the early morning light, she could make out their features long before they reached Jeralt.

The first figure was a noticeable distance ahead of the other two. He was a brown-haired boy with a yellow cape and a bow slung across his back. Even from far away, Byleth could tell he had fear written on his face. The others stumbled onto the road a bit after him, though much closer to each other. One was a white-haired girl with an axe at her side, whose clothing was accented with crimson. The last was a blonde boy in armored clothing, with a blue cape slung over one shoulder and a lance in his hand, though not at the ready. All of them ran as if their lives depended on it. When they got near the trio of mercs, they slowed to a halt, catching their breath with varying levels of exhaustion.

Jeralt took a few steps forward, hand on his sword just in case. “Bit early for you kids to be playing in the forest. What’s wrong?”

The boy with the lance was the first to recover, standing to his full height as he spoke. “Please forgive our abrupt arrival. We’re being pursued by a group of bandits.” After a moment, he added, “You appear to be capable fighters. Would you be so kind as to lend your support?”

“Bandits? Here?” Despite the surprise in his voice, Jeralt motioned for the rest of the company to get ready for battle.

“It’s true,” the white-haired girl said. “They attacked us while we were at rest in camp.”

The brunette archer, who had been resting against his knees, looked up with a sheepish yet undeniably cocky grin. “Normally we’d take care of it ourselves, but they separated us from our companions. Now they’re after our lives… not to mention our gold.”

Jeralt’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the three newcomers. Byleth knew her father well enough to see that something had him confused… or concerned. Whatever it was, it didn’t last long. The old mercenary nodded and looked back to the rest of his mercs. “Slight change of plans! Let’s deal with these bandits before we head out. Wren, don’t give me that look.”

The small, green-haired skulker Jeralt called out gave an annoyed groan but grabbed her daggers. Every one of his mercs dropped what they were doing -- whether checking equipment or saddling horses -- to grab their weapons and follow their leader out of the village, to where the newcomers said the bandits were.

Byleth was somewhat surprised to see said newcomers join them. Turning to the blonde boy keeping pace with her, she quirked an eyebrow slightly. “Thought you’d be exhausted from running. We can take care of simple bandits easily enough.”

The boy chuckled sheepishly. “That may be true, but I, at least, cannot sit idle while others deal with my problems.”

“I understand.” The young mercenary nodded, glancing at the other two, who made some affirmative sounds. “By the way, who are you?”

This time, the brunette archer was the one to reply. “Don’t think we’ve got time for full introductions at the moment, but you can call me Claude. And my upstanding friends here are Dimitri and-”

“Edelgard,” the axe-wielding girl cut in. “Might we know your name, as well?”

“Byleth...” She trailed off as they reached the edge of the forest proper and saw the advancing bandits barrelling through the trees. From the glimpses she caught, this was one of the larger groups of brigands the company had ever fought. Or there were several bands working together. Either explanation didn’t lessen the number of men she counted coming towards them with weapons drawn. “Conversation’s over. Prepare for battle.”

Byleth readied her sword and glanced around to locate Miklan. Usually, he’d remain glued to her side, ready to intercept any wild swings or reckless charges aimed at Byleth. Today, though, he was staying several paces away. With the only real difference in this fight being the newcomers’ presence, she made a mental note to ask him what was wrong later. At that moment, her only concern was striking down these ruffians.

The world was drawn into sharper focus as she took up a stance. Her sword, her allies, the enemy in front of her, even the dirt beneath her feet registered in her mind clearly. Jeralt called for the bandits’ surrender, which was summarily ignored, and the bandit’s leader yelled to kill anyone who stood in their way. Merc weapons met brigand axes as the two forces clashed at the edge of the village. Cries of pain mixed with roars of fury, and blood began to splatter on the ground. To any villager watching, it was something like seeing hell break loose in the quiet forest.

To the Ashen Demon, it was home.

Byleth dove into the fray, blade dancing through air, leather, and flesh. One bandit fell… then another… and then they stopped coming after her directly. With no immediate threat, she took stock of the rest of the field.

The bandit’s leader, a particularly large and unpleasant-looking man, had his attention solely focused on Dimitri. The blonde boy easily parried the ruffian’s clumsy strikes but couldn’t seem to get in any good hits of his own. Claude was doing his best, but the bow he had wasn’t the best for close-quarters fighting, and the arrows that did hit their target didn’t seem to do much. Edelgard had her hands full with another bandit, and so Byleth decided to help the two who were having significantly more trouble.

She charged the bandit leader, ramming into his side before swiping her sword across his middle. His armor, though only made of leather and hide, was still sturdy enough to keep her blade from cutting him in half, and he instead merely stumbled back. He might’ve been able to regain his balance had Dimitri not chosen that moment to thrust his lance and shove the man to the ground.

“Thank you,” Dimitri said, flashing a smile at Byleth in the moment of respite they’d earned. However, it didn’t last long, as it seldom did in battle.

The bandit leader growled and leapt to his feet. Axe still in hand, he glanced between the trio who downed him and Edelgard, who had strayed far from her allies in the chaos. She had managed to defeat her own foe, but the blade of her axe had become lodged in the poor bandit’s chest. Struggling to pull the blade free, she must’ve looked a far easier target, as the bandit leader ran towards her, axe raised high in the air.

“You’ll die!” he bellowed.

Edelgard whipped her head towards the new threat and let go of the stuck blade. She drew a small knife from her belt, but that would do little against a full-sized axe with the weight of a grown man behind it.

Byleth broke into a run, hoping that she’d be able to get to Edelgard in time. She didn’t know if she could make it; all she knew was that she had to try. As the bandit’s axe fell, the mercenary skid to a stop between the blade and the white-haired girl.

However, the axe wasn’t coming in at the angle she expected. Byleth’s sword wasn’t in the right position to block properly. Time seemed to slow down as she saw the sharp edge coming towards her chest, and when it bit into her chest, time stopped altogether.

Literally.

The world was rendered in inverse colors, and movement ceased completely. Byleth could barely process what had happened before her consciousness fell inward on itself. The mercenary felt like she was falling without moving, and when she regained awareness, she found herself in a sea of black.

Before her stood the throne, with its occupant still sitting at attention. The strange woman smiled as their eyes met.

_ “So, now your waking mind finds this place.” _

Somehow, Byleth knew that the woman was the one to speak, but such a thing was impossible, as she never opened her mouth, and no sound echoed in the empty expanse surrounding them. This time, the mercenary wasn’t drawn away immediately by her father or the first rays of the sun waking her. Stepping forward, she summoned her courage and asked, “Who are you? What is this place?” When the woman merely smiled, Byleth growled, “Answer me! I’m tired of the blank looks.”

The strange woman giggled.  _ “This is not a place, and I am not a person.” _

Byleth pouted. “Riddles, huh? Why am I not surprised?”

_ “Because you already knew what I’d say.” _ She tilted her head to the side, and for some reason, the young mercenary felt inclined to mimic her. _ “But the real question is this: what will you do now?” _

Byleth shrugged. “Die, I suppose. If I haven’t already.” She idly kicked a loose stone, then paused and wondered how long she’d been standing on a cobbled floor. “Though, if this is the afterlife, I find it rather lacking.”

_ “Perhaps you merely need to try again.” _

“Very funny,” Byleth snorted. “People don’t get second chances at life.”

_ “Don’t they? Have you tried?” _

Warmth flowed through the mercenary’s body at the words.  _ Well, no, _ she thought, but the certainty was gone. Her blood seemed to sing with possibilities which no mere mortal could fathom. It should have been terrifying, and yet Byleth had never felt calmer.  _ It’s not possible, though. No one can turn back the hands of time. No one gets a second chance… right? _

On the platform where the throne sat, the strange woman stood up and gestured at the air. An intricate circle of light sprung into being before her, with a pulsing symbol at its center that seemed familiar and alien at the same time. It drew Byleth towards it… or maybe it came to her. Either way, the mercenary reached out her hand and touched the warm light.

_ “Time is like water,” _ the strange woman smiled.  _ “If you can hold it, you can direct it. Now go… your friends are waiting.” _

Byleth was about to ask what she meant when the world lurched suddenly, and she found herself back in her frozen body. It was an odd feeling, being aware of the absence of time, but it wasn’t nearly as bizarre as it had been mere seconds ago. Turning her focus inward, Byleth thought about the events leading up to this moment, how she could’ve angled her sword upwards more and stopped the axe from reaching her. She saw the instant she could make that change in her mind, clear as crystal, and told the world to go back.

Everything went in reverse. The axe pulled away from her chest as she moved backwards. It happened in an instant, and then time began flowing normally again.

The bandit leapt to his feet and charged at Edelgard, but Byleth was ready this time. Dashing forward, she kept her sword raised high. The blades met long before either encountered flesh, and a quick flick of her wrist tore the wooden handle from the bandit’s grasp.

“Shit!” the bandit swore, stumbling back and glancing at the spot his weapon landed. “Fuckin’ brat!”

Byleth took up a defensive stance in front of Edelgard, eyes locked on the bandit and his darting eyes. She was aware of Claude and Dimitri coming up beside them, bow and lance at the ready, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off her enemy for even a moment. While she could still feel the eb and flow of time, the young mercenary didn’t want to rely on the power to undo her actions. After all, she had no idea what kind of limitations it had. Or if she’d even be able to turn back the clock a second time.

“Don’t worry! The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our students!”

The few remaining ruffians halted in their tracks at the loud declaration. Their leader swore under his breath before shouting, “Everybody, scatter!”

As they turned tail and fled in all directions, Byleth saw several men in heavy armor emerging from the forest. At their head was a man whose armor shone white with gold trim. His axe was more regal than crude, and as he saw the fleeing ruffians, he pointed the blade at their retreating figures. “Hey! Those thieves are running away. Make sure these villains cause no more harm!” The rest of the knights nodded and began pursuing the bandits into the trees, but the white-armored knight hurried up to the trio with Byleth. “I apologize that we were unable to get here sooner, but you’ve held your own magnificently,” he said to the trio.

Edelgard shook her head. “I’m afraid the majority of credit for our survival goes to the mercenary company we found… as well as our friend here,” she said, gesturing to Byleth.

The young mercenary had only been half paying attention to the conversation, looking to see if any of her fellow mercs were injured, but she snapped her head back to the white-haired girl at the mention. “It was nothing,” Byleth said automatically. “We deal with bandits all the time.”

The knight smiled and nodded, turning his cheerful gaze to the young mercenary. “Then you have my sincerest gratitude, Miss…”

“Byleth Eisner,” she finished for him. “And it wasn’t really a big deal. They weren’t especially competent bandits. I’m just glad none made it into the village.”

“Ah, a fellow protector of the innocent, are we? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Eisner. I am Alois Rangeld, proud member of the Knights of Seiros.”

Behind the young mercenary, Claude suppressed a snicker. “Yeah, pretty sure everyone within a mile radius knows that already.” A loud thump indicated that Dimitri had elbowed the talkative archer, though apparently he’d done so with a bit more force than necessary. “Ow…”

Alois, however, didn’t seem to notice. His brows furrowed and eyes went unfocused, deep in thought for a few moments before timidly asking, “Eisner… You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Jeralt Eisner, would you?”

“He’s my father,” Byleth said without hesitation. “We already have another job set up, though. Sorry.”

The knight looked taken aback for a moment before the wheels in his head began turning. “No, no… I’m not looking to hire him. I just--”

“Hey, kiddo!”

Everyone looked towards the voice, seeing said mercenary captain ambling towards his daughter. He wasn’t injured and didn’t look upset or worried, so Byleth smiled. That meant that no one had been seriously hurt, which was always a win to savvy mercs.

“Looks like all the bandits turned tail the moment they saw actual knights,” Jeralt sighed, stopping beside his daughter. “Ancha’s cleared everyone for travel, so if you’re done with your new friends, we’re gonna… head… out…” He trailed off as he saw the white-clad knight staring at him. “Oh, shit…”

Alois paused with his mouth open, then suddenly exclaimed, “Captain Jeralt! It  _ is _ you! Goddess, it’s been ages. Where have you been?”

Jeralt let out a long groan, one that he didn’t bother hiding. “Why him?” he mumbled so softly only Byleth could hear. “Nice to see you too, Alois. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got to get going.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Farewell, Captain,” the warrior knight said automatically. After a few moments, though, his brow creased, and he huffed, stomping his foot for effect, “No, wait. That’s not how this ends. You should come back with us to the Monastery. The archbishop would love to see you again.”

“She would, would she?” The beginnings of a mischievous grin tugged at the corner of Byleth’s lips. The young mercenary wasn’t about to let this new development go unexplained. Her father kept too quiet about his past, even limiting what he told her about her own mother. If this Alois could tell her the things Jeralt would not, then she would grill him for all she could get. Turning to her father, she raised her eyebrows innocently. “You never told me you knew the archbishop.”

Jeralt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was a long time ago, kid. Before your time.”

“Well now I’m even more curious.” Fixing Alois with an intense gaze, Byleth asked, “How exactly do you know Father, anyway?”

“You don’t know?” The knight looked as if she’d just told him the sky was made of cheese. “Jeralt led the Knights of Seiros until about 20 years ago. Before he went missing, I was his squire.”

“And you’re still as loud as ever,” Jeralt sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re going to keep hounding me until I agree to go back, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Alois smiled. Apparently it was that easy for him to bounce back from being completely flabbergasted. “I don’t know if I could handle the look of disappointment on Lady Rhea’s face if I told her you didn’t want to at least visit.”

The old mercenary grimaced and glanced back at his daughter, who had also fixed him with a pleading gaze. Byleth knew exactly how to shape her expression to make him cave, though she rarely used such valuable knowledge. It’s effectiveness would probably lessen if she did so anyways.

After a minute of heavy sighs, Jeralt turned back towards the rest of the company and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Listen up, everyone! Change of plans! We’re going to Garreg Mach first!” The chorus of ‘aye’s and ‘why’s confirmed that they heard, and so he looked sidelong at his every so slightly smiling daughter and the enormously grinning knight. “There. You two happy now?”

Byleth merely nodded. She was, indeed, happy.  _ Wonder what I’ll learn, _ she thought,  _ about who Father was before I came along. This’ll be interesting. _


	2. Home I've Never Seen

Byleth never had so much attention centered on her before. The three students were all equally eager to chat with her, slowing to match her pace as the group made their way along the forested path. She couldn’t imagine what they found so interesting about her, save for the fact she was the closest to them in terms of age.

_ Don’t think I’ve spent much time with people my age,  _ Byleth pondered as Claude was finishing up a description of the chapel.  _ I like it. _

“This will be your first time at the monastery, correct?” Dimitri cut in, flashing the young mercenary a polite smile. “I’d be happy to show you around, if you have the chance.” Before Byleth could respond, Claude chuckled, and the prince shot an annoyed glare at the brunette archer. “Is something funny, Claude?”

“Oh, nothing.” The brunette archer laced his fingers behind his head, too casually to be unintentional. “I just didn’t expect you to get down to business so soon, Your Highness. I was at least going to wait until we shared a meal to lay on the charm.” With that, he subtly winked at Byleth, though his smile still hadn’t reached his eyes.

Dimitri’s face instantly turned a nice shade of crimson, and he sputtered trying to find the right words to respond with. “I was doing no such thing! If anyone here is attempting something untoward, it would be you, self-proclaimed schemer!”

Ignoring the prince’s outburst, Claude fully turned his attention to Byleth. “In any case, Garreg Mach probably won’t have anything new for someone who’s traveled as much as you have. It’s kind of like Fódlan in a nutshell.” After a beat pause, he added, in a slightly lower voice, “The good  _ and _ the bad.”

“Like it or not,” Edelgard sighed, “we’ll be there soon enough.”

Following the white-haired girl’s gaze, Byleth saw the truth of her statement. Before them, peeking through the trees, was an enormous fortress. She caught sight of a magnificent chapel at the center, with spires rising high into the air. A solid, stone wall surrounded a surprisingly modest village that rose along the slope until it reached the gates of the monastery proper. To Claude’s credit, there really wasn’t anything there Byleth hadn’t seen dozens of times. Bakers, blacksmiths, merchants, soldiers… as far as she could tell, nothing was out of the ordinary for a large city in the mountains.

And yet, a sense of familiarity hung over it all that deja vu alone couldn’t account for. Byleth felt safe. Safer than when her father held her in his arms as a child. Safer than when Miklan was watching her back. Safer even than when she comfy in her bed with all the windows and doors locked.

_ That’s… odd, _ she thought as the group crossed the monastery’s market. The only place she could remember that made her feel remotely similar was the Kingdom capital.  _ It doesn’t look anything like Fhirdiad, though... _

“And here we are!” Alois’s voice cut through Byleth’s thoughts as he addressed the mercenaries. “I sent word ahead, so Lady Rhea should be expecting us.”

“Right…” Jeralt sighed, the defeat in his voice growing with each step. “Rhea…”

Byleth’s observation was interrupted by a tap on her arm. Turning, she saw Dimitri smiling cheerfully. “I’m afraid we must be going, but I do hope we’ll have more opportunity to talk before you leave the monastery.”

“On this occasion, I feel I must agree with Dimitri,” Edelgard added with the slightest bit of annoyance. “Your insight on common life throughout Fódlan is most intriguing.”

The prince scowled and huffed at the white-haired girl. “That was not my intent. Is it not enough for you to simply enjoy a pleasant conversation?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Your Highnesses,” Claude interjected before things got heated. “Let’s leave our friend in peace.” The jovial archer hooked arms with the other two and politely dragged them off. He did spare a wink for Byleth before they left the mercenaries completely. “Remember to say hi before you head out. It’d mean a lot. Seriously.”

A small smile graced her lips as the young mercenary waved the trio of students off. Each had their own, unique charm that made her want to spend longer in their company. It didn’t hurt that they were easy on the eyes, too. Byleth made a mental note to seek them out before Jeralt had the company move on.

Turning back to her father, she saw that he and Alois had just finished talking to an errand boy. When the boy ran off, Jeralt gestured for Byleth to join them. “Yes?” the young mercenary inquired. “Want me to keep an eye on everyone while you visit your old friend?”

“Very funny,” her father groaned. “No, it appears Lady Rhea would like to meet you, as well.”

Byleth tilted her head ever so slightly. “Me? Why?”

The veteran mercenary threw his arms in the air. “Hell if I know. Probably just wants to meet my kid, but I could never tell what’s going on in her head.”

“Well then!” Alois chirped, his cheerful obliviousness brushing away the tension in Jeralt’s voice. “Best not to keep the archbishop waiting.” With a little flourish, he began leading the pair through the monastery.

Before they went any further, though, Jeralt laid a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Kid, while we’re here, make sure to stay near me.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Byleth knew when her father was making suggestions. No, this was an order. His voice carried the same tone he used when commanding the mercs in battle, a mixture of authority and grave seriousness. That he used that tone here, in a place they were otherwise safe in, gave her pause. “Any reason?”

The old mercenary sighed heavily. “Just do as I say, By. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.”

_ But what are you protecting me from? _ she thought with the slightest quirk of her brow. Byleth didn’t feel like pushing the issue at the moment, though. After all, they had an archbishop to meet.

True to his word, Alois led the mercenary duo straight to the main building at the center of the monastery, the rest of the company left to mill about in the marketplace. The white-armored knight left them at the stairs, having duties of his own to attend to, but Jeralt seemed to know where they had to go already. They went up to the second floor, which opened almost directly into a spacious audience chamber lined with pillars and elegant statues. Priests and other monastery staff darted about, attending to various tasks, taking little notice of the mercenaries as they were occupied with their clerical work.

At the head of the chamber, standing before the single stained glass window, was a beautiful woman who could only be the archbishop. Her long, green hair cascaded over her white robes, and an intricate headdress rested at the top of her head. What drew Byleth’s attention, however, was the calm yet authoritative air that surrounded her, as if she knew her word would not be questioned within these walls. A rather stern man stood at her side, going over some documents with her as they awaited the mercenaries’ arrival.

The moment Jeralt entered the chamber, the regal lady turned towards him and smiled softly. She motioned for her companion to pause their discussion as the mercs walked closer. “It has been a long time, Jeralt,” she said with all the composure expected of such a revered bishop. “I wonder… was it the will of the goddess that we should have another chance meeting like this?”

Immediately, Byleth saw her father’s posture straighten before he gave a deep bow. “Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since… we last spoke.” Quickly standing back to his full height, as if to cover up his thoughtful pause, Jeralt cleared his throat and glanced at the other man, who hadn’t left the archbishop’s side. “You gonna introduce your new friend?”

The man grimaced but swiftly replaced it with a look of stern indifference. “I am Seteth,” he stated. “I work as an advisor to the archbishop.”

“Ah, must be new, then,” Jeralt mumbled to himself before offering his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir Seteth.”

“Just Seteth, if you please.”

Rhea observed the exchange with mild interest, her smile growing as the two men shook hands amiably. Byleth figured that she was just happy her new and old friends were getting along, but that didn’t explain why her eyes sparkled with joy upon getting a better look at the young mercenary herself. “I see the miracle of fatherhood has blessed you once again. This is your child, is she not?” the archbishop teased.

Jeralt made an uncomfortable sound of affirmation. “Er, yes. Born many years after I left this place. Wish I could introduce you to her mother, but we… lost her… to illness.”

“My condolences.” Rhea nodded, though she hardly seemed to notice as she focused completely on Byleth. “Might we know your name, as well, dear child?”

“Byleth Eisner.” She said it automatically, her mind elsewhere entirely.  _ “Once again?” _ The words echoed in her ears, imparting all the knowledge they contained. Her father had another child? One the archbishop knew about? He’d never once mentioned having a child before her. Despite all the things Byleth overheard on the road up to Garreg Mach -- how Jeralt had once been the Captain of the Knights of Seiros, and a bloody brilliant captain at that -- those two words shook her most of all. The young mercenary knew he didn’t like talking about his past, but a sibling seemed kind of important.

“A wonderful name,” Rhea chuckled softly. “I’m told you were instrumental in keeping our students safe. For that, you have my sincerest gratitude.”

“It-it was my honor.” Byleth shook out of her reverie. Despite the ever-increasing urge to question her father, she still knew that such things had a time and place. In a discussion with the archbishop was neither. “I’m glad we were able to help.”

A harsh cough pierced the awkward silence that followed, drawing all three sets of eyes to Jeralt as he cleared his throat. “Well, now that we’re all caught up, you want to tell us why we were summoned? I can practically see you waiting for the right chance to ask.”

“Is it truly that obvious?” Rhea sighed. “I trust you already know what I’m about to ask, then.”

“I can hazard a guess,” he said, relaxing his shoulders ever so slightly. “You want to reward us for our ‘brave deeds’ somehow. Think I know how, but I’d rather not say it.”

“Then allow me to say it officially: I would like to offer you your old position as knight-captain,” Rhea said. “The Knights of Seiros are not as they once were. We would greatly benefit from your experience. Of course, I would extend the offer of employment to any of your men who wish to stay. They would have much to gain from steady pay, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I appreciate the offer. I really do.” Jeralt folded his arms and looked away, shifting from foot to foot with discomfort. “But I’m afraid we really do have to get going soon. My men and I have taken on a job for Duke Fraldarius, and I’m not about to break contract. You know that that’s basically career suicide for a mercenary; we live and die on our reputation.”

Rhea’s eyes widened ever so slightly at Jeralt’s declaration. “Well, yes, of course,” she nodded, the slight pause in her words the only indication that she was displeased with the outcome. “I certainly have no wish to discredit you or your men. But you must allow at least a day or two so we can prepare appropriate compensation for your work.”

“Keep it,” he snapped. Seteth instantly leveled a menacing glare at Jeralt, and the old mercenary coughed sheepishly. “What I mean is that… since it wasn’t an official job, we really shouldn’t be accepting money from the Church.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Rhea said, trailing off as the cogs began turning in her head. “But regardless, you still put yourselves at risk to aid our students. One must repay favors owed. If monetary compensation is unacceptable, then perhaps something less tangible would be.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow as the archbishop’s eyes fell to her. “Pretty sure services also fall under ‘monetary’ rewards.”

Rhea chuckled and shook her head. “No, nothing so cumbersome, dear child.” The soft smile returned to her face, though it didn’t feel entirely genuine. “There are still seats left in the Officer’s Academy. If a bright youth wished to have one for the term starting in a few days, I could easily arrange admission.”

The way the archbishop focused on Byleth made it clear just who that invitation was for. The young mercenary wondered why she, of all people, would be offered such a thing. It wasn’t like she needed schooling; Jeralt had taken care of teaching her everything she needed to know. The way her new friends spoke of it, however, made her think that the Academy was about more than just letters and numbers and how to swing a sword. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested.

Her father, on the other hand, grimaced even more. “Again, thanks but no thanks. The company moves out soon, and I need everyone. That includes my daughter.”

Byleth glanced at Jeralt. She’d always trusted him, ever since she was a child, but something was off. The job in Faerghus wasn’t a complicated or difficult one; they could easily afford one less sword among their ranks. For some reason, Jeralt wanted to get Byleth out of there, specifically.  _ I certainly have a lot to ask him once we’re out of here, _ she pondered as the old acquaintances practically glared at each other. The young mercenary may not have always agreed with her father, but she wasn’t about to start an argument in front of two strangers.

Two strangers who felt like old friends.

Eventually, Rhea let out a heavy sigh and looked to the floor. “If you are insistent about this, then there is little I can do to sway your mind. At least take the rest of the day to rest. And, perhaps, give my offer some thought. Decisions off the battlefield should not be made in such haste.”

“Duly noted,” Jeralt said flatly. “If you’ll excuse us. I’m sure we’ve monopolized enough of your time.” He gave a stiff bow before heading out of the chamber.

“Always in such a rush,” the archbishop sighed as Byleth made to follow her father. She managed to catch the young mercenary’s gaze long enough to give an understanding smile. “I look forward to hearing your decision, dear child. I feel you have much to gain from spending time here at the Officer’s Academy.”

Byleth followed Jeralt’s example and gave a slightly less stiff bow before leaving. “Thank you, Lady Rhea. I’ll think about it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“What was all that about?” Byleth asked as they made their way back to the market. “And did I hear that right? I had a big brother or sister?”

“What? No,” her father said quickly. “You’ve always been a single child. Where did this come from?”

“Lady Rhea said ‘the miracle of fatherhood blessed you  _ again _ ’.” She grinned slightly. “Now, I may not be a master of the spoken language, but my understanding was that ‘again’ means ‘it has happened before’.”

Jeralt blinked at her several times, face scrunched up and eyes narrowed before understanding dawned on him. “Oh! That… Er, yes. Before…” His eyes darted every direction but hers as he tapped his chin. “Before I met your mother. But the kid died, and then I left the monastery. Too many memories, you see?”

_ All I see is a man more panicked than depressed. What are you worried about, Father?  _ Byleth kept the thought to herself, though. The old mercenary never mourned in the “traditional” ways, and she already had her answer. “Okay. I understand.” A quick pause, then she added, “So, why the need to leave so soon?”

Jeralt sighed a much heavier sigh than usual. “By, we don’t have time to talk about this right now…”

“You never have time to talk.”

The old mercenary stopped abruptly and turned to face his daughter. “Listen, we don’t need to accept charity from  _ Rhea _ , of all people. We’re doing fine as we are.”

“Even with work drying up?”

Jeralt grimaced. “Better to be penniless than to directly serve under the archbishop. Trust me.”

Byleth’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Nothing about Rhea seemed bad; the lingering sense of familiarity was odd but hardly distressing. “And what was so bad about the Academy offer? She doesn’t control the students’ lives, does she?”

The old mercenary finally relented, if only a little. “You’d be too close to her, okay…”

_ So that’s what this is about…  _ “Why are you so keen on keeping me away from the archbishop? Are you worried she’ll convert me to the Church of Seiros?”

Jeralt just groaned. “You don’t know Rhea like I do. Just trust me on this, alright?”

Byleth huffed, crossing her arms in stubborn defiance. “I will once you give me a reason to. You wanted to leave the moment we got here, but no one forced you to come in the first place.”

“You don’t get it,” the old mercenary sighed, mirroring her stance. “It’s a nice offer… but something bad will happen if we stay here. I just want to keep you safe.”

The blue-haired girl rolled her eyes. She was used to Jeralt being evasive, but he usually wasn’t a hypocrite about it. The mercenary lifestyle certainly wasn’t the best for people who wanted to live long lives. “You’ve had no problem dragging me into dangerous situations before,” she snapped.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

The barest hint of anger flashed through Jeralt’s eyes. “It just is,” he hissed.

Byleth simply met his tempered glare with a cold stare. The fury and indignation she felt bubbling in her chest only showed in the slightest crease of her brow, but she knew her father could see it. “Then you leave,” she stated after an uncomfortably long silence. “I’m going to accept the Archbishop’s offer.”

Jeralt’s eyes went wide as she made to walk past him. “Byleth!” he gasped, grabbing her arm before she’d taken three steps. “Don’t-“

The blue-haired girl glared out of the corner of her eyes at him and yanked her arm from his grasp. “I’m not a child, father. I want to stay.” A cruel grin pulled at her lips as she remembered something. “And wasn’t it you who once told me to try connecting with more people? An academy sounds like a wonderful place to do just that.”

“You know that’s not what I meant...” Despite his words, the old mercenary visibly deflated, dropping his shoulders and sheepishly looking away. “Nothing I do is gonna change your mind, is it?”

“Nope.”

Jeralt sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Fine…” he grumbled. “Go… do what you want. But…” The smile that had begun working its way onto Byleth’s face dropped. “I’m not leaving you here alone. That’s the one thing I won’t budge on.”

“So you’ll stick around? Despite hating this place? Despite having work lined up?”

“I can send Mira in my stead. She’ll make sure our company gets the job done so no one loses face,” the old mercenary groaned. “But Rhea will rope me back into the Knights of Seiros, one way or another, and then I’ll be stuck doing missions for her.” Byleth rolled her eyes, but Jeralt looked completely serious. He truly believed there was no way to stay without serving the archbishop. “I’ll try to stay nearby, but lots of the Knights’ missions take them away for weeks at a time. So I’m gonna see about allowing one of my mercs to stay with you.”

The resignation in his voice was a heavy weight on the young mercenary’s mind. She could scarcely imagine someone stubborn enough to make  _ Jeralt _ do… anything. Especially something he expressly didn’t want to do. It almost made Byleth want to reject Rhea’s offer.

Almost.

“So, shall we tell the archbishop and her friend my decision before saddling Mira with her newfound command?” she said jokingly.

“If I must.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“What, may I ask, has brought you back so soon?” Seteth nearly growled at the two mercenaries as they interrupted the green-haired duo’s discussion for the second time in under an hour.

Byleth remained unfazed. She’d seen far scarier faces on bandits, and she never had trouble with men who bared their fangs so easily. “I’ve given your offer some consideration,” she addressed Rhea directly, “and I’d like to join the Officer’s Academy, if that’s still on the table.”

A moment passed with the archbishop’s face writ with surprise, and then she smiled more broadly than the blue-haired girl had ever seen on someone she hadn’t just rescued. “Wonderful!” Rhea exclaimed, clapping her hands together like an excitable schoolgirl. “I’m… overjoyed that Jeralt’s fine daughter will be joining our academic family.”

The old mercenary harrumphed. “Yeah, about that. I’m sure you won’t mind if I leave one of my mercs to keep an eye on her, right?”

While Rhea only seemed a bit surprised by his request, Seteth was downright insulted by it. He puffed out his chest and folded his arms, looking down his nose at the pair of mercenaries. “Are you implying that the Knights of Seiros are inadequate protection for your daughter? Need I remind you that we are also currently responsible for the well-being of the Imperial princess, the Kingdom prince, and the heir of Leicester. Do they also require extra protections?”

Jeralt raised his hands in a placating gesture at the stern man’s glare. “Not at all. Call me overprotective, but I’d like someone I trust watching my daughter’s back.”

Byleth didn’t miss the wistful look that drifted across Seteth’s sharp features. It was just for a moment, though, and she wondered what memory her father’s words brought to the stern man’s mind.

Jeralt didn’t seem to notice, however, and looked back at Rhea, the subtle dislike he had for her written into the slight furrow of his brow. “Just think of it as a favor, for my past years of service.”

Seteth also turned to look at the archbishop. “Lady Rhea?”

Rhea tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “We can’t show any student preferential treatment, and a bodyguard would certainly appear as such to the other students’ benefactors.” She paused a moment before smiling warmly and meeting Jeralt’s eyes. “But I might be able to extend the offer of education to another of your wards. Enough retainers have joined the Academy alongside their charges for the precedent to be set. Was there anyone in particular you were thinking of?”

“I’ve got a guy in mind,” Jeralt said. “But I’d like to ask him first, if that’s acceptable to you.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to pressure anyone into accepting our offer.”

Byleth saw her father’s jaw clench, but he didn’t say anything else.

“In the mean time,” the archbishop turned to Byleth, “please think of which House you would like to be entered in. Without a country of origin, you may have your pick of them.”

Byleth nodded, and a few pleasantries were then exchanged before both Eisners excused themselves from the audience chamber. As they made their way back through the reception hall, the blue-haired girl caught Claude waving at her from a doorway leading to what appeared to be the dining hall.

Tapping her father’s shoulder, she said, “I think you can handle Mira without me. There are some other people who’d probably want to know what’s going on.”

Jeralt glanced between Byleth and the brunette archer who caught her eye. He huffed but nodded, the barest hint of a knowing look gracing his eyebrow. “Good idea, kid. Fewer targets for her to shoot her barbs at. I’ll catch up with you later.”

The blue-haired girl smiled and made her way to Claude, feeling for all the world like things were clicking into place.


	3. Choices

Claude’s smile just barely graced his eyes as Byleth approached. “How’d your meeting with Her Holiness go?”

“I believe it went well, all things considered.” At his raised eyebrow, the mercenary girl decided to elaborate. “I don’t think Father and the archbishop parted on the best of terms. At least, that’s the impression I got.”

“Uh oh,” the brunette archer said softly. He began leading her into the dining hall as he said, louder this time, “Well, you don’t look smote by divine retribution, so I’m guessing that’s why it ‘went well’. Am I close?”

The corner of Byleth’s lips quirked up in amusement. “I wasn’t aware she could do that, actually. Because in that case, it went incredibly well. The archbishop offered me a spot at the Officer’s Academy since we helped you with the bandits.”

“Really?”

Claude tried not to let his utter surprise show, but the mercenary wasn’t watching his face anyway. Her focus remained on his amber eyes, how they darted about as if trying to observe everything at once. In her limited experience, the eyes betrayed the most about one’s inner thoughts. Byleth knew that even she wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes from shouting what her expression simply didn’t want to communicate. She couldn’t quite read Claude the same way she could Miklan or her father, but she easily saw that he was trying to hide something. What that something was, however, remained a mystery.

“Yeah,” she said. “I was surprised, too. Definitely doesn’t seem like something that happens often.”

“I’ll say. Usually takes money, connections, or both to get in.” With practiced nonchalance, Claude spun a chair around and sat down, using the backrest to rest his arms in defiance of its function.

Byleth shrugged and took a seat facing him. “Apparently my father used to be the Knight-Captain here. Must’ve been enough of a connection for the archbishop.”

“Ah, right, right,” the brunette archer nodded sagely. The glint in his eyes never dimmed, sparkling with the speed of his thoughts as he raced towards an unknown conclusion. At least, that’s what Byleth suspected. She could usually recognize honest eyes, and Claude did not have them. “Well, regardless, you basically just won the pot as far as opportunities go. You gonna accept it?”

“Already have. Didn’t really see a reason not to.”

“I had a feeling that was the case. What House are you joining, anyway? It’s typically based on home country, but I don’t think you ever mentioned yours.”

Byleth merely shrugged. “Don’t really have a home. Father always kept us moving, like most mercs. The archbishop just told me to pick one.”

“Oh?” Claude raised one curious eyebrow and smirked. “Guess this is my chance to shamelessly persuade you to pick my House, then. Seriously, you? Me? Golden Deer?” A coy wink punctuated his words. “We could be great together?”

“Well then,” the young mercenary stifled a giggle and leaned forward, smirking imperceptibly, “don’t let me stop you. Why  _ should _ I join the Golden Deer?”

Claude’s smirk widened and actually reached his eyes as he began his pitch.

* * * * * * * * * *

The first bluebirds of the Great Tree Moon sang from the monastery’s sloped roofs, providing a pleasant melody to those wandering the grounds. Byleth sighed and stretched before descending the stairs just outside the dining hall.

Claude had bent her ear for quite some time, though the topic ended up wandering not two minutes into his pitch. While Byleth didn’t think the choice of House mattered that much in the long run, the archer certainly made a good case for the Golden Deer. A group of misfits from all walks of life sounded a lot like Jeralt’s mercenary company, so she had no doubt she’d feel at home among them. However, it hardly would’ve been fair to make a decision based on one conversation, and so the mercenary excused herself so she could find the other House leaders and see what their opinions on the matter were.

As she wandered the monastery grounds, Byleth took note of the various buildings and people hanging about. It wasn’t a terribly complicated layout, but the stoic mercenary felt she should get a little more familiar with it since she’d be living there. Didn’t hurt that she wasn’t sure where Edelgard or Dimitri were, either. While meandering outside the dormitories, however, she saw a flash of white hair down one of the side halls and immediately changed direction.

Edelgard was speaking with a black-haired, gaunt man who wore a plain, Academy uniform. Both kept their voices low as they discussed whatever matter had their attention, so Byleth couldn’t quite make out the topic. As she approached, the man snapped his head towards her, his visible eye narrowing, effectively ending their hushed conversation.

“It appears we have a guest.” The man’s voice wouldn’t have felt odd coming from a serpent, and Byleth felt the barest shiver go up her spine. He didn’t frighten her by any means, but the mercenary knew that some primal part of her subconscious wanted to avoid him at all costs.

The rest of her mind simply noted that he wasn’t happy to see her.

“I can come back later if this is a bad time,” Byleth stated. “Just thought I should say ‘hi’.”

“No need for that,” Edelgard spoke up, turning fully to face the new arrival. “We weren’t talking about anything urgent. Though I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

“Thought we’d be busy with the archbishop until bedtime?”

Whether the princess understood the joke or not, Edelgard gave no sign. She merely shook her head with a slight smile. “Not quite, though I wouldn’t have been surprised. Was there something you wished to discuss?”

_Maybe Dimitri wasn’t exaggerating._ _She_ is _aware that casual conversation exists, right?_ Stuffing that thought away, Byleth answered with a tiny smile of her own. “Sort of. But first--” She motioned to the man, who loomed beside her like a sentient shadow. “-- are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Edelgard blinked in confusion for a moment before she seemed to realize what the mercenary was implying. A rosy blush crossed her cheeks, which she swiftly hid behind her gloved hand. “Of course,” she said with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. As if that would cover up the social faux pas she’d just commited. “This is Hubert, of House Vestra. He serves as my retainer.”

Byleth nodded and gave a small bow to the gaunt man, unsure about the proper way to address someone who looked more comfortable hanging back in the shadows. “Nice to meet you, Hubert.”

An evil smile -- as Byleth couldn’t think of a better word than “evil” -- spread across Hubert’s face, and he gave an even deeper bow, though his words made the action seem more sarcastic than not. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Eisner.” The use of her name didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the venomous tone his voice took when the words passed his lips. “I live to serve Her Highness, and eliminate any… annoyances that may cross her path.”

Byleth had heard more subtle threats from crazed bandits. She met Hubert’s sharp gaze with measured indifference, a stone for the viper to break his teeth on. “Men far more imposing than you have tried to intimidate me. None succeeded. Either try harder or trust that I won’t attempt to harm -- or  _ annoy _ \-- your ward.”

“Hubert,” Edelgard groaned, resting her face in her palm. “She saved my life. If she wished me harm, she would’ve done so already.”

It was as if a lever had been pulled that let out the aura of tension that hung over the three. The gaunt man was no less intense, but his posture relaxed tremendously. “As you wish, Lady Edelgard.”

“Thank you,” the princess sighed, turning her attention back to the mercenary. Despite her expressed disappointment, she recovered incredibly fast, her confident aura dominating the area. “Anyway, you had something to discuss?”

_ Yeah. Do you ever relax? _ “I do. You asked me to talk with you before I left the monastery, but that won’t be happening for a while.”

“Oh?” The surprise in Edelgard’s eyes betrayed her attempts to suppress it.

Byleth had no idea why both she and Claude were so dead-set on appearing calm all the time. If they were trying to impress her, it wasn’t quite working. “Yes. The archbishop offered me a spot at the Officer’s Academy, and I accepted. We’ll have plenty of chances to talk now. Doesn’t even have to be about commoner-perspective stuff.”

“Sh-she did what?” Edelgard’s composure fractured, letting her true confusion spill through in wide eyes and a gaping mouth. While she quickly cleared her throat and returned to her baseline state, she seemed to realize that there was no taking back the break Byleth had seen. “Please excuse me. I just… It is unheard of for someone to obtain a seat without considerable influence. How did you manage to convince her to offer you one?”

Byleth tilted her head. “‘Convince her’? I didn’t. She literally just offered it. As a reward for saving you, Dimitri, and Claude.”

A thousand emotions flickered in the princess’s eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them go any further. “Ah, that… makes more sense, then. I thought gold would be a more suitable reward for a mercenary’s assistance, but a place at the Officer’s Academy is just as valuable. Again, I apologize for my outburst.”

“No need,” the mercenary said, raising her hand in a placating gesture. She doubted Edelgard needed the reassurance, but with Hubert hovering over her shoulder, Byleth felt it appropriate. “I was surprised, too. Apparently, I have to choose which House I’ll join, though. Claude’s already made his pitch for the Golden Deer, so if you’ve got something similar, now’s the time. On our way here, you said you’re the head of the Black Eagles, right?”

“You weren’t assigned a House?” Edelgard tilted her head as she touched her chin thoughtfully, her confident facade solid once more.

“No home country, so no.”

Edelgard’s expression seemed to soften at this, though her sharp gaze still ran along Byleth’s body. She obviously hadn’t decided what to think of the oddly stoic mercenary, but it seemed her interest had at least been piqued. “Anything in particular you would like to know? Like the Adrestian Empire we hail from, the Black Eagles have a long and illustrious history.”

Byleth shrugged. “Anything you think is important. You’re the expert here, not me.”

The look on Edelgard’s face couldn’t have been more pleased as she began to speak.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dimitri was far easier to find than the Imperial princess. Likely because it was Dimitri who approached Byleth. After a long -- and probably unnecessary -- lecture about the glory of the Empire and the students it produced, the mercenary agreed to think about it and took her leave, meandering back towards the entrance hall to see how her father was handling things. On her way, she passed through the classroom courtyard, which is where the Kingdom prince intercepted her.

“Byleth!” he called out before walking quickly over to the mercenary. “Do you have a moment?”

Byleth smiled and gave a simple nod as she halted and turned to face Dimitri. “Of course. I was hoping to run into you, anyway.”

He couldn’t conceal the slight blush that crept onto his face at her words, but it was hardly noticeable next to his wide smile and the excited sparkle in his eyes. “You were? Glad I was able to find you, then. Claude told me you’ll be joining the Academy. Is that true?”

The unashamed joy in his blue eyes was a welcome change from the other House leaders’ failed attempts at stoicism. “It is,” Byleth stated. With a mischievous grin, she added, “You seem rather happy about it, too. Glad I’m staying?”

Dimitri’s blush spread across his entire face, and he looked to the side in embarrassment. “I guess I’m not hiding it very well, am I?”

“No, you’re not.” Byleth’s smile widened a bit. She’d been the focus of men’s attention before, but they’d mostly been farmer boys and posturing mercs. A prince was new, especially since he seemed so timid and shy with his affection.  _ It’s kind of cute. _ “I like it.”

The prince rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “That’s… that’s good to hear. I’m just glad I’ll have more chances to get to know you better. Regardless of which House you choose.”

“Claude told you about that, too? Well, I’m all ears. I’ve already heard his and Edelgard’s thoughts on why I should join their Houses.”

Dimitri blinked a few times before he widened his eyes in understanding. “Oh! Well, I can try to steer you towards the Blue Lions if you’d like, but I’m afraid anything I say will be a poor argument when compared to theirs.”

It was Byleth’s turn to be confused. She fully expected him to have some reasons she should join his class, regardless of how persuasive he was. “Do you not want me in your House?”

“No!” Dimitri protested, a little louder than intended. “No, that’s not it at all. I’d love to have you in the Blue Lions, but I would be just as likely to put you off it entirely than join. Also, it would leave a bitter taste in my mouth if I tried to sway your decision with mere words.”

“The Land of Knights harbors those who speak with actions?”

“More poetic than I would put it, but yes.”

Byleth’s lips quirked up once more. She knew there was a reason she was always fond of Faerghus. Actions over words… it was easier to understand people like that. Edelgard and Claude certainly spoke pretty, but Dimitri had said the most with far fewer words. She didn’t need to think over her decision any more; she doubted anything would change her mind at that point. “Think I’ll join the Blue Lions, then.”

“Just like that?” Dimitri looked as if a viper poised to strike turned into a bunch of sausages but wasn’t sure if it would turn back. “I thought you said Edelgard and Claude put forth convincing arguments for their Houses.”

“And you put forth a better one.” Byleth grinned. “I should probably let Rhea know, then. Only a few days before classes start, right? Not sure how much paperwork they’ll need, so best to get on it.”

“Y-yes. Yes!” Dimitri let a silly grin settle on his face. “That’s a good idea. And… I’m glad you’re staying. Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Blue Lion House.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Ugh… never thought I’d end up wearing this uniform…” Miklan grumbled, tugging at his collar until he gave up and just undid some of the buttons.

Byleth tilted her head, pausing the adjustment of her new clothing. “Why not? Aren’t all nobles forced to come here?”

The gruff redhead snorted bitterly and shook his head. “Not everyone’s important enough for the Officer’s Academy.”

The young mercenary could hear the resentment in Miklan’s voice and decided not to push the issue. It had taken two full years before he opened up about his past as a member of House Gautier, and Byleth wasn’t going to undo that trust by asking unnecessary questions. For whatever reason, Miklan had never been considered for the Academy, and that was enough for her.

“Well,” Byleth said, hoping to change the subject, “you’re okay being here now, right?”

The redhead smirked. “Wouldn’t have accepted if I weren’t.” As they drew near the door to the Blue Lions’ homeroom, his smile fell faster than a tower of cards in a tavern brawl. “His Highness isn’t going to like me being in his class, though. Just a heads-up.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow, hand hovering over the handle. That fact hadn’t come up once on the trip from Remire Village, and it wasn’t one she remembered him ever mentioning. Thinking back on it, he  _ had _ flinched when she requested to be put into the Blue Lion house, though she wrote it off as dislike of his birth country at the time.

Miklan groaned as he recognized the look on her face. “Long story, and not one I want to tell. Let’s just say that he was my brother’s friend, not mine, and leave it at that.”

“If you say so.” Byleth shrugged and entered the classroom where they’d meet their new classmates.

Inside, several students were already milling about, absorbed in conversations among themselves or making sure they had everything they needed for the first lesson. The young mercenary only recognized Dimitri, though his bright blue capelet made him hard to miss. At the prince’s side stood a rather stern man who towered over everyone else in the room. His size wasn’t the only thing that made him stand out, though, as his brown skin and white hair marked him as a man of Duscur. Nearby, another trio was chatting amongst themselves. A rather soft-looking woman eagerly bantered back and forth with a girl who could outdo an Aegir hound in enthusiasm. The third of their trio -- a silver-haired, freckled boy -- didn’t speak up as much, and it looked as if he felt out of place.

There were other students sitting on the desks or leaning against the walls, but no one else really drew her attention. Byleth quickly made note of where everyone was and then strode toward Dimitri. She may have enrolled to interact with more people her age, but she figured it would be polite to say hello to the only other person there she actually knew.

Dimitri and his companion turned as the young mercenary approached, a smile spreading on the prince’s face. “Ah, Byleth! It’s good to… see…” His expression fell the instant he saw who was accompanying her. “What, may I ask, is  _ he _ doing here?”

Byleth noted how Dimitri clenched his fists with barely restrained fury, as well as Miklan’s response to shuffle behind her. On the battlefield, it was usually the other way around, but she didn’t begrudge him his sudden timidness. Even she was a bit unnerved by the prince’s glare, though she stubbornly kept her face serene and stoic.

“My father’s overprotective,” the young mercenary stated, as if they were merely discussing the weather. “So he got Miklan enrolled to keep an eye on me. Why? That’s not against the rules, is it?”

“Not… technically, no.” Dimitri ground his teeth as he spoke, struggling to keep his tone even and polite. Still, it looked like he’d enjoy nothing more than crushing the redhead’s skull in his hands. He settled for crossing his arms, instead. “But with  _ his _ history…”

“Your Highness?” The tall, Duscur man laid a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder as he glanced between the newcomers, determining if they posed as much of a threat as Dimitri made it seem. Whatever he saw, it apparently made him side with the mercenary duo, at least in this case. “They do not appear to have ill intent,” he said softly. “And people are staring.”

His assessment was certainly a correct one. Around the room, other students began taking interest in what was happening with their house leader. Many were whispering to their friends, sowing the seeds of gossip they’d hear about in a few weeks. Some backed away, while others tried to subtly move closer. One small gaggle of boys were even placing bets, though Byleth couldn’t hear the details. Overall, everyone gave off the impression of beholding a rarely-seen act of aggression.

Several tense moments passed before Dimitri lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. “I… apologize,” he said sheepishly, uncrossing his arms and meeting Byleth’s gaze once more. He gave a stiff bow which the young mercenary had often seen annoyed noblemen give when they couldn’t think of a good reason to short change Jeralt for his work, though she doubted Dimitri’s sudden formality was borne of such a petty reason. “I should not have been that curt with you. However, I must express my misgivings at...” Dimitri paused as he shot the redhead a very pointed look, “... having Miklan here.”

“Why?” Byleth asked. “We were both working in my father’s mercenary company. We’re equally trustworthy.” She flashed Miklan a tiny smile, more of an upward quirk of her lips, before resuming her stoic gaze to await Dimitri’s answer.

“I highly doubt that,” the prince groaned. Glancing at the crowd they’d inadvertently gathered, he sighed. “If you knew what I do, then you’d agree.” Before she could ask for clarification, Dimitri held up his hand. “May we continue this conversation in private? I’d rather not speak of such things with so many eavesdroppers.”

Miklan tapped her shoulder insistently at the prince’s suggestion. When she tilted her head to look at him, the redhead whispered, “I think you’re gonna find out whether I want you to or not, but I’d really rather no one else hear about… everything.”

Byleth had been about to decline Dimitri’s request and just tell him to say what he had to say, but seeing the worry and resignation in Miklan’s face changed her mind. She nodded and motioned for the prince to lead the way.

“Thank you.” Dimitri turned to his friend before leaving. “Dedue, will you stay here and keep an eye on things?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

The prince led Byleth out of the classroom and towards the training grounds but stopped halfway, near the overlook where no one was currently loitering. Only once he was sure they were out of earshot of anyone did Dimitri address Byleth again.

“I assume you are at least somewhat aware of who Miklan is, correct?”

Byleth just nodded. No one joined Jeralt’s Mercenaries without people finding out an odd detail or two about their past. “Disowned son of House Gautier. I know. He told me that himself.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Because he doesn’t have a Crest,” the young mercenary said, though she wasn’t as certain now. Thinking back, she wondered if it was something Miklan had actually said, or if the gossip among the mercenaries just became accepted as fact. Slightly scrunching her brows, she added, “At least, he nodded when Mira asked if it was about a Crest.”

Dimitri sighed and leaned back against the parapet. “That’s… not untrue. House Gautier values their Crest far more than other noble houses, but his lack of Crest only meant he couldn’t become the head of his house. He was disinherited long before Margrave Gautier disowned him.”

“You’re going to tell me he did something horrible, aren’t you?” Byleth felt her heart slowly sinking into her stomach. Miklan had been a part of their mercenary company for about four years. She’d grown used to him watching her back, throwing his shield between her and potentially devastating blows. Whatever he’d done in the past, he was a far better person now than when Jeralt first found him raiding the company’s food stores.

Her worry must’ve found a way onto her face, as Dimitri softened his gaze and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I can see that you trust him a great deal. That much was evident when I saw you two fight together,” he said softly. “But this is something you should know about.” The prince removed his hand, possibly worried about what they looked like to any onlookers. “However, once I tell you what he did, if you believe he is no longer capable of such actions, then I will defer to your judgement and speak no more of it.”

“I guess that’s… understandable.” She sighed heavily. “What did he do?”

Dimitri stood back up, looking slightly down to meet her gaze. “Miklan was the elder of two sons born to Margrave Gautier, the other being Sylvain. To make a very long story short, Miklan once attempted to kill his brother.”

Byleth blinked. She’d expected something bad, but nothing close to attempted fratricide. With how easily he joked and bantered with the younger mercs in the company, she couldn’t quite imagine him hating someone enough to kill them. “No chance it was an accident?” The young mercenary knew the redhead used to be violent and angry, so she could easily see him doing something impulsive. However, something in the way Dimitri said it made her think this particular murder attempt was more premeditated.

“Highly unlikely. He took Sylvain riding, during winter, and left him in the wilderness. Several servants testified that Miklan declined an escort, and when Sylvain was found, he confirmed the Margrave’s suspicions.” Pausing, the prince added in a lower voice, “And that’s the only attempt we  _ know _ of.”

Byleth’s face remained impassive as Dimitri finished. Inside, however, her thoughts were turning at a rapid pace. She could scarcely reconcile the short-tempered, overprotective Miklan she knew with the cold, calculating Miklan the prince described. Many of Jeralt’s mercs had similarly unsavory pasts, but none had quite so large a disconnect in attitude. The young mercenary sighed and closed her eyes, trying to imagine a scenario in which the man she knew would do something like what Dimitri described.

After several long minutes of silence, in which the prince wrung his hands anxiously, Byleth looked back up at him. “I’m not sure what kind of person you knew,” she said slowly, “but Miklan isn’t that man anymore. You’ve as much to fear from him as you do from me.”

Dimitri let out a shaky breath and reluctantly nodded. “Forgive me, as I… have a hard time believing that,” he said. “But I stand by my word. If you say that he is no threat, then I’ll choose to believe you. You’ll not hear another word of this from me.”

A knot in her stomach — one she hadn’t even realized was there — loosened, and Byleth felt a smile grace her lips. “Thank you. Miklan’s a really good friend. Probably my first friend, if I’m being honest.” The first friend her own age, at least. “If it helps, I can keep him in line, though I doubt I’ll need to.”

“It would,” the prince sighed, meeting her steady gaze with his own, hesitant smile. “Shall we return to the classroom? Lessons will begin soon, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.”

Byleth swore she saw Dimitri about to offer his arm when a rush of movement caught their attention. With reflexes honed from years of practice, the mercenary’s hand flew to her belt, only to realize she didn’t have her sword. Panic crept into her mind in that split second before she saw that it was merely the silver-haired boy from class running over to the pair. He skid to a stop a few feet in front of them, eyes wide with fear.

_ Oh no… tell me it’s not what I think it is, _ Byleth thought. Her mind whirled through all the previous times Miklan had gotten into a brawl, and she hoped against hope that she wouldn’t be adding another instance to that pile.

“Y-Your Highness!” he panted. “M-ma’am! Felix! Uh… sword… chasing!”

Dimitri laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Calm down, Ashe. I don’t understand. Did something happen?”

The boy -- Ashe -- nodded frantically and took a few long breaths. Perhaps too long, as Byleth was nearly worried he had forgotten to breathe altogether. Once his breathing evened out, the freckled boy straightened up, trying not to look quite as shaken. “Felix is chasing the new student with a sword. We tried to stop him, but…”

“No, you did well,” the prince said quickly. “Where did they go?”

Ashe pointed back towards the classrooms. “Towards the dining hall, I think. Ingrid dragged Felix into the classroom, and he saw the new guy, shouted something about bastards and chased him out the door. Dedue went after them, and I think a few people from the other Houses did too.”

Dimitri closed his eyes and groaned. “Of course it would be Felix…” he grumbled before turning his sheepish gaze to Byleth. “I’m sorry to ask for your help in this matter, but I have a feeling we’ll need all the assistance we can get.”

“Sounds like it,” the mercenary sighed. “Let’s make sure no one gets shanked the first day of class.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“That was… not how I expected my first day to start.”

Byleth nodded lethargically at Ashe’s observation. It had taken nearly half the class — and a few members of staff — to haul Felix away from Miklan. And that was  _ after _ the redhead somehow escaped to the dorm rooftop. While the school doctor, Manuela, declared both men sound of body, the decision was made to leave Miklan out of the classroom until Dimitri could smooth things over with his friends. Byleth didn’t begrudge the prince’s task; Felix in particular wasn’t keen on letting Miklan anywhere near Sylvain. The other two, at least, seemed willing to listen.

Next to her, the freckled boy shifted anxiously, glancing at the door every now and then. “So, who do you think we’ll get as our professor?”

“Hm?” The young mercenary tilted her head. She hadn’t heard anything about particular professors being assigned to the Houses, but she supposed it made sense. It simply hadn’t occurred to her until that point. “Not sure. Do you know who the usual teachers are?”

“Of course!” Ashe smiled brightly, and Byleth swore he could outshine the sun if he tried. “My adoptive father told me. There’s Professor Hanneman von Essar, Professor Manuela Cassagranda, and Professor Eritz Lacunda Ernest. But I heard Professor Eritz ran away during the pre-term expedition. If so, I doubt they’d let him come back.”

“Makes sense.” She glanced at the door again, wondering when the Blue Lions’ professor would make their entrance. She’d never been terribly good at small talk, but Ashe seemed to calm down considerably once he started talking. “So, ah… what’s your name? Think I caught it in the confusion, but I’d rather be sure.”

The freckled boy giggled shyly. “Not surprised; that was really hectic. I’m Ashe. Ashe Ubert. And you?”

“Byleth Eisner.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Byleth,” he said. “I hope your friend can join us in class soon. He seemed… nice.”

The mercenary got the distinct sense that he only said that to be polite, but it was a pleasant sentiment nonetheless. “He’s not.” She couldn’t help the amused chuckle that bubbled in her chest at Ashe’s expression. He obviously didn’t expect her to casually throw her friend under the carriage like that. “Not in the way you or Dimitri are, at least.”

“Oh, um, thanks?” The freckled boy fiddled with his quill as a small blush spread on his cheeks. “I still think I kinda… want to say hi… at least… I’m sorry.” He half curled up on himself, glancing up at her with sheepish eyes. “I’m not very good at talking to nobles.”

It was Byleth’s turn to be shocked. Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch, an actually visible change to anyone paying attention. “You think I’m a noble? I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.” Leaning forward on her elbows, she flashed him a small, impish grin. “What about me says ‘noble’?”

“Well, you’re so composed and—”

“Good morning, Blue Lions!”

The awkwardly chatting duo jumped in their seats as the crash of doors being flung open accompanied an equally boisterous voice. They turned around in tandem with the rest of the class, all eyes drawn to the man who chose to enter so loudly. Striding proudly through the oaken doors, a smile on his face as white as his plate armor, came Alois.

“So, I know we had a little bit of an  _ incident _ earlier,” the jovial knight said as he made his way to the front, “but that’s not going to set the tone for the rest of the year.” When he got to the desk, he turned on his heel to address the class. “My name is Alois Rangeld, and I have the great honor of being your instructor for the year.”

As a shocked murmur swept through the students, Ashe turned to Byleth and whispered conspiratorially, “He’s one of the Knights of Seiros, right? Think he’ll be a good teacher?”

Byleth considered the little she knew of Alois. He certainly seemed friendly enough for a knight, and Jeralt considered him fairly reliable in combat. However, she doubted that kindness and strength were the best prerequisites for a professor. Shrugging, she said, “We’ll find out soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and critiques are greatly appreciated! So are questions, so if you're feeling curious, feel free to ask.


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